<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>pondering thine inner fire by StormySkiesAhead</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100130">pondering thine inner fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySkiesAhead/pseuds/StormySkiesAhead'>StormySkiesAhead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lullaby for a queen in making [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Primeval</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Other, The au where Helen gets to be a chaotic wlw, and also wear a bunch of hats, and hit a Gorgonopsid in the face, the hattie au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:21:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,289</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23100130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySkiesAhead/pseuds/StormySkiesAhead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes, you need to take a step back. or several steps back.<br/>nick cutter is thirty-six years old at his time of death. considering there's at least a year or two between the beginning of s1 and that, and there's eight years between helen's disappearance and the beginning of season one, he'd be about twenty-six or twenty-seven then. subtract the eight and a half years you need on average to get a doctorate, the time he'd need to be teaching before helen went missing, and the time before he started teaching, and... well.<br/>there's still time, before young adults are fully grown, to have an intervention.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Abby Maitland/Connor Temple, Nick Cutter/Stephen Hart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>lullaby for a queen in making [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>pondering thine inner fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>well.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It starts with steps not taken, a turned back, the avoidance of the Great Loneliness altogether.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, that's not right. The Permian is too late-early for that. We must go back-forwards instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps, then, it starts with Stephen Hart’s eyes falling on a different Cutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that’s too late, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, the story truly starts with Helen Ambrose, and her best friend throughout her years of higher education, a young man by the name of Nicholas Cutter. Specifically, it starts with a shift in the latter’s schedule, a sunny grin, and a long, wandering conversation that ends somewhere around Nick Cutter inviting Helen Ambrose to a meeting for young climate change activists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because, you see, in a different world, this meeting could have happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>years</span>
  </em>
  <span> later- well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> much later, but long enough that Helen’s appetite for revenge instead of healing is whetted, and she has no friends to help her through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But such is the world Helen Cutter lives in, and sometimes, it can be a beautiful thing.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They get a divorce not long after they're married, but they still live together, and Helen still keeps the name. And sometimes, the ring, if she doesn't feel like letting anyone be pushy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Nick is, quite possibly, the only person she’s ever brought herself to love. She may not be quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> love with him, but she certainly loves him deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They still spend hours on the couch together, discussing theories or some idiotic television show that somehow both restores and rips to shreds Helen’s faith in humanity at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick goes through a series of partners, whereas Helen doesn't find anyone else to pique her interest. Usually, after about three months, someone puts their foot down about the ex-wife living in the same house and keeping her married name. No matter their gender or profession, someone kicks up a fuss about Nick’s closest friend and confidante being his ex. Every. Single. Time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so, Helen decides to play matchmaker. She doesn't know that many people outside of academia, and so, she starts there. And gives up after about six months.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does find Stephen Hart, though, a grad student on a doctoral track with a brilliant aptitude for field work. And the silliest puppy crush on Nick she’s ever seen. Because Helen is a cruel enabler, she adds him to their little team meetings over strange fossil finds in the U.K., though their team is made up of, now, with the addition of Stephen, three people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's something strange, going on, in the Forest of Dean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen would normally go alone, but Stephen does make a good point. There's something wrong in this forest, something that makes the compasses go wild and the animals to go quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen can only watch in horror as Nick trips and falls, halfway crushed. The creature makes its move, coming closer and closer, ready to feed on one of the only people that Helen Cutter has ever loved in her twenty-seven years of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen won't know she even moved until the morning, when Stephen tells her the story with awe in his eyes, how she’d cold-clocked the gorgonopsid with a shopping cart to the face. Four times. In succession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody messes with </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> people,” Helen purrs, violence lit like a fire behind her eyes, flickering, burning, blistering, as she lies in that hospital bed, “And has any chance of getting away with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the next week, a doctor in the biological sciences department goes missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>History will always, always take the path of least resistance when it comes to events, but sometimes it doesn’t matter </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> people do things, just that they </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>them.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They come back, several times, to the Forest of Dean, over the years. They never see the shining light in the woods again, and often figure it was just a one-off occurrence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, of course, until all three of them are in Canada (which means, specifically, that they’re on call for an Albertosaurus dig in Saskatchewan).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Evan Cross has a curious look in his eyes, and an even curiouser device on his side. Helen doesn’t know why he’s looking at her like that, or why he keeps referencing a photo he has with him. Stephen chases him off, and comes back looking paler than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cryptic fucker,” he says, “Kept asking questions he seems to think </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’d</span>
  </em>
  <span> know the answer to. Looks like he’s not having the best of months, though, so I’m not going to push at him. I heard his wife died recently, animal attack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen pauses, and looks at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen,” she says carefully, “A man who’s recently lost his spouse to an animal attack comes to ask a group of paleontologists and evolutionary biologists about something. What, exactly, do you think this might involve?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stephen stiffens, and looks back up the hill for Cross. He’s already gone, it seems, but Helen stands anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First strange thing that happens in the Forest of Dean, we investigate again,” she instructs, “I’ll not have us miss something important because we thought it was a hoax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s going to give us a lot of false alarms,” Nick replies under his breath. Helen shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better a dozen false alarms and responding to a true one than ignoring them all.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Professor Cutter!” a student shouts. He’s holding a newspaper, almost reverently, and Helen and Nick turn at the same time. The student grins, and shouts again, but this time, it’s-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Professors Cutter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen gets Stephen and Nick to slow down with a pointed nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor Temple,” the student says. Helen recognizes the name- he’s in one of her theoretical evolutionary biology classes, specifically one she teaches with an animal behaviorist and conservationist (who’s rather good about bringing in live examples of strange traits), and a fantasy author. He’s a bright kid, she remembers that much- he’s one of their undergrad TA’s. Nick says something or another, and Connor shifts back and forth on his feet awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you’ve never actually turned up for the seminars,” he says. Helen hisses aggravatedly, and Connor grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah- Professor-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just call me Helen if you’re talking to the both of us. I assume Nick is the reason you haven’t moved to grad school, yet?” she asks, before turning to Stephen and Nick once they make their way into the office, “Connor is one of my teaching assistants in the theoretical evolutionary biology course. I believe you mentioned you did your dissertation on the properties of sentient life had it evolved on different planets? Something like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor scratches the back of his head awkwardly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, actually, I was going to argue for the possibility that all life on earth derives from organisms brought here by the water carried in by meteorites, but then I figured it’d never get graded anyways so I might as well have fun with it. I eventually just argued that all life on earth derives from micro-organisms brought here by alien spacecraft.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen hides her snort of laughter, and nods. She’s told him at least once or twice over the months he’s been working with her that if someone’s dead-set on wasting your time and money, waste theirs, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick tosses the dissertation into the garbage, and sighs in defeat, before pulling out one of the fossils on his desk. Connor cocks his head, and tosses the newspaper onto the desk, grin firmly in place. Nick begins to lay into him, but Helen frowns, and takes a better look at the photograph. It’s hauntingly familiar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forest of Dean.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor, when he reads the shift in attitude in the room, grins, and turns to Helen with a did-I-do-good look in his eyes, the kind that tells her the kid is used to having to </span>
  <em>
    <span>scream</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a shred of attention. Helen nods, and Connor grins wider, showing teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s one of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> students, all right.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Helen </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> these kinds of marks, knows the way that the bars bend, knows the shape in the photograph just as well as she knows the curves and lines of her own hands, of her own face. She pulls down her cap to cover her eyes, and takes a shaky breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s back, isn’t it?” Stephen asks, eyes wide, “That’s what’s happened here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen nods, and raises her chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I drove this thing off before,” she says, “I can sure as anything do it again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This gorgonopsid- because that’s what it was, all those years ago, and that’s what it’s likely to be now- is not going to hurt a single one of her people. Not now, not then, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her smile, when she flashes it at Stephen and Nick and Connor, is full of teeth, a threat more than anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nick, come with me, we’re going to see if we can source anyone to help us with this, and if we can find the creature again,” she orders, “Stephen, take Connor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do I have to-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen,” Helen says, dropping into her lower register like she’s about to snarl, “Connor. Will. Be. Helpful. Now. Go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they make it to the hotel bar, Helen’s irritation has already spiked beyond reasonable levels. A woman kisses Nick out of the blue. Helen’s eyes track back to where this newcomer came from, and land on a slimeball of a man with a cocky smirk. If she had hackles, they’d be up- she knows what </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels like, coursing through her blood like adrenalin, and it feels like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick’s eyes find hers, and jerk, almost imperceptibly, over to the man in the booth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” she says softly, “You said you wanted to speak with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To you, specifically,” Claudia Brown, as the woman introduces herself, hums, “I was hoping someone could confirm this was all a hoax, but you- you lost a student out here years ago, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eight years ago,” Helen confirms, “And she was a colleague. Doctor Ivy McCormick. She was… concerned, about something, before she left. I was worried about her. The police investigated me after I called asking if she’d called any suicide hotlines recently. I’m not certain she was involved with this at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there is?” Claudia asks, “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t rule anything out just yet,” Helen says. Claudia opens the bag at her side, and pulls out a file, flipping through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were in the hospital,” Claudia says, “Not long before Doctor McCormick went missing, injuries sustained </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Believe me, Claudia,” Helen purrs, “I doubt lightning ever strikes twice.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Helen falls back behind the group. There’s something strange, here, and deeply, deeply wrong. She thinks, perhaps, that lightning can indeed strike twice, because there’s a familiar buzzing in the air, the same that there’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> night. Helen hadn’t ever gone deeper into this forest, too filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that if she had, something might have gone terribly wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she meets Abby Maitland and little Rex, something clicks, properly, beneath her skin. Helen doesn’t feel quite human, in this moment, when her eyes flicker over the people assembled before her- she feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something great and terrible stirs in her gut, the gluttonous beast that his Helen’s desire to protect what is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is a lioness on a silver chain, and her claws are oh-so-terribly sharp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen knows what’s here. She doesn’t bother crouching down, in front of Ben- she’s not some kind of fool that thinks that’ll make him trust him more than he already does (which is clearly not much- Helen knows perfectly well that she tends to frighten children).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen, instead, pulls her sketchbook out of her bag, and shows it to him. The intake of breath from the little boy is an audible thing. Claudia’s eyes flicker over, and she turns tense when she sees the sketch that Helen has open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the same one,” she says, once they’re out on the street, “The same one from eight years ago- or at least a similar creature-, I’d bet my hat collection on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a hat collection?” Claudia mutters under her breath, before shaking her head, “Wait, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> that thing was here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t sure,” Helen says, “All I know is there was something that looked and acted like a Gorgonopsid, but larger than any we have any evidence for. The skull, at least, was the right shape- Connor has a good resource on footprint identification, if we find any.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time they catch up with the gorgonopsid, it’s nearly too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fortunately, Stephen Hart is a damn good shot.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“So,” Nick says, scrolling through his phone for some image to show the pest controller, “Bugs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup,” Helen replies, “Speaking of bugs-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Stephen freaked out over a cockroach last night. Helen, you sleep in the room next door to us, you know what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” she hums, “Most people would find that odd. Your ex-wife living in the same house as you and your current partner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My ex-wife has also been my closest friend since I was sixteen years old and new to uni. My ex-wife also got me and my current partner together in the first place. Helen, we’re never going to kick you out. Besides, you pay a third of the expenses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn right I do,” Helen replies, “Now. I think we both agree with Claudia- the Underground should be shut down until we find the anomaly. For all we know, hundreds could go missing through an anomaly that shifts to the right spot at the worst possible moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen spots Ryan walking in their direction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The most likely time this particular anomaly links to is the Carboniferous. That means two things- the first is that there’s more than one anomaly, the second is that they link to more than one time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s not an isolated event,” she hisses at Nick, “It could be infinite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We both know that,” he bites back, “Now, just wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not much of a waiting game anymore when Stephen is bitten by the centipede. It’s even less of a waiting game when Connor takes it upon himself to get the sample. Helen stays by Stephen’s bedside the whole time, ordering Nick to go with Connor- at least if both of them are there, they might have a chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s the scientific field team’s leader, now. She has a duty to that team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Abby seems… nervous. Helen can see the way she looks at Stephen, and she knows it’s going to be a very awkward conversation if it’s Nick or Stephen himself who handle it, and so, she sits the girl down, and sighs, loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stephen and Nick have been a couple for the past four years. Prior to that, they were dancing around each other for two after Stephen got his doctorate. Abby, you’re what, in your early twenties? Don’t do this to yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the woman living with her ex-husband and his boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, they’re my closest friends. And the rooms are soundproofed pretty well.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Mosasaur,” Helen mutters, skimming the water with a hand, “Small one. Probably about seven, eight metres in length, maybe a little bit longer. She said it was, what- patterned like an orca?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She said it looked like a shark, and orca, and a lizard had a child in hell,” Stephen replies, “I believe her. That’s an odd pattern to resurface, but I suppose it’s possible. And there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> evidence to suggest the presence of a fluked tail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t rattle off what you read in the latest </span>
  <em>
    <span>Smithsonian</span>
  </em>
  <span> article,” Helen replies, “Large carnivore, reptilian. Hopefully, it’s too cold and acidic for the creature to care at-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nick rushes over, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ivy McCormick,” he says, “There’s been clues hidden all over the house. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why,” Helen bites, stretching up to her full height, “Is that any more important than the large carnivore we’re dealing with now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s-” Nick sighs, “Mind in the moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mind in the moment, Nick,” Helen replies, “We can’t afford to be off our game at the moment. We have a mosasaur to deal with. If that young lady is telling the truth, of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is, indeed, telling the truth. Connor hits the mosasaur in the head with an oar when it makes like an orca after a seal and lunges for him, and it slides back into the water before long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a Hesperornis, in a basement. It shakes, gleaming iridescent feathers shining in the light, and the plumber who’d nearly gotten electrocuted by the water too also shakes, fearfully, clinging to the heavy bird with all his might.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> cormorant,” the young man says, when Abby tries to convince him to give up the Hesperornis, “Get your own cormorant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a cormorant,” Abby replies, “But alright. I’ll sit with you, and your emotional support bird.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The plumber sighs, and loosens his grip on the Hesperornis. Helen prepares herself for a dive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Ivy,” she says. When McCormick is carried out, kicking and screaming, hate flashing in her eyes, Helen wishes she hadn’t.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Ivy doesn’t give them any information until near the end, it seems. There’s anger in her soul, Helen can see that much, and it chills her to the bone. Ivy’s always been the angry sort, but it seems that eight years away have firmed her resolve in that regard. She flashes sharp teeth and gives them incorrect information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Helen, as she always did in their little games, loses. Badly, at that. Badly enough that it’s something she’s likely to remember forever, something that will make her tread with caution whenever she sees hope in someone’s eyes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there’d been hope in her own eyes, too- enough that she’d wondered if it’d be worth it, to step forwards, to keep the dodos and return them to a home that’s been so changed since they’d last been there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But people have </span>
  <em>
    <span>died.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And Ivy’s gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen attacks the punching bag when she gets home up until she passes out, right there, not even having moved from her spot.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Pterosaurs,” Helen mutters. Ivy shrugs her shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, pterosaurs,” she replies, “I think I recall-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you hate me?” Helen asks. Ivy blinks, and flashes gleaming teeth, too clean for someone who’s been in the past for years. Helen thinks she’s like a shark- all sharp teeth and dead eyes and predatory movements.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” Ivy replies, “I do hate the rest of them, Helen. But I don’t hate you. You see, I’m not exactly- what’s the word- a nice person. And solitary confinement isn’t exactly the best for the human psyche.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Helen tunes out the rest of her rant. All she knows is that pity is the greatest of what she feels towards Doctor McCormick.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They’ve lost two. Nick knows it, she knows it, Ivy, with her dead shark’s eyes, knows it. They’d closed Tom’s eyes and buried him with their own hands, as well as they could have. He could have been a better friend, one that’d grown closer to them over the years, and now they’ll simply never know him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Helen is more focused on the deeper ache, the eyes of Abby and Connor and Lester that she doesn’t quite know, the ones that feel just off enough to be uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that Claudia is gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In that moment, Helen Cutter makes a promise to herself, that none of the rest of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> people will ever be gone, that none of the rest of them will ever-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, if she’s being honest with herself, she can’t quite promise that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she sure as hell can </span>
  <em>
    <span>try.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this one's a little rushed bc i went 'ooh! shiny!' with a new AU and now i'm focusing on that. lullaby's going on the back burner for a while.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>